I'm Busy Getting Stronger

I love the Sarah Evans song, and have, from the moment I heard it. Knowing a bit about her life, I understand what the lyrics are intended to portray, but I look at it differently, hear it in a way it probably was not designed to be heard, and I think of so many...myself, my husband, our daughter, Allison's family, friends, my sister in her loss of her husband Michael, many mothers and fathers who have been left to maneuver grief, a widening circle of loved ones who are grieving parents, siblings, other friends and neighbors. Yes, the circles are growing, and whether they know it or not, they, too, are busy getting stronger. Being our own best, or worst, critic, we tend to NOT see what others see, how can we? Our souls are screaming, our arms are empty, our house is quiet, the phone rarely rings, and when it does, it is not her, or him. In our case, it is not Allison. The cruel reality is that it will never, ever be again. There are many cruel realities, most too hard to bear. Sometimes, I just don't want to bear them at all. I have to literally shake my head until it rattles to dismiss the doom and gloom that this grief can bring to me, if I allow it, if I embrace it, if I let it consume me. It surely will, all the days of my life, if only I allow it. I work to do just the opposite, for what good will it do me, my heart, my soul, my emotional and physical state, what good at all? So, from the start, even though it didn't seem like it, I have been busy getting stronger.

Stronger may mean different things on different days! And if truth be known, I don't really want to work at it at all! I would like to take the low road, and just NOT show up for life, at times. Other times, I want to embrace all of it as quickly as I can because I now understand, at a deeper level, just how short this lifetime really is...never did I know that so many conflicting emotions could surface at the same time. It is no wonder that grieving is hard, dedicated, tumultuous work. But, in spite of myself, I am busy getting stronger. How do I know this? What is the measure of strength? How can I feel so strong, yet so weak?

I know I am busy getting stronger because of what I can not only DO, but FEEL, and SEE, and TASTE, and SEE, and even SMELL. My senses have come alive, because I have allowed them to do so. The numbness is wearing off, not gone by any stretch of the imagination, but shedding layers, if you will. I am working at it. It would not be doing so, if not for the work put into it. The readings, the prayers, the devotions, the healing modalities, the rest, the shifting of priorities, the shift in my life. All changed. Never to be returned to again. All because of one phone call, which led to one diagnosis, which led to treatments and protocols, which led to eleven weeks of time together, which led to a chance to say good-bye, which led to death, and in death, led to life. I cannot explain it. I don't need to explain it. I know what I know, and that is I am busy getting stronger.

I see beauty in the simple forms. I have slowed down to capture moments that will stay with me forever. I help make a memory. I even ran into the ocean this summer with my clothes on, thank you Allison, thank you Michael, thank you God for removing the inhibitions for that one moment in time. I attended two weddings this summer, and danced at both, just a little, but I danced. I listen to music and hear the lyrics, now, and sing, with my out of tune voice. I affirm that I have a purpose and trust that God will lay out His plan for me. I am busy getting stronger without even realizing it.

I am taking care of physical needs. Yes, I am often numb, and don't want to, but in spite of myself, I am busy getting stronger. I find my way through housecleaning chores, projects, trips to my sister's house, some vacations, have been to two movies, and have lunches with friends. If there is a measure of getting stronger, I am making my mark. Yes, I do so with tears in my heart, and a soul that is crying out for my deceased child, but I am living, some, and that is pleasing to her. I hear her whispers and feel her love, and know she is proud. That, and the life of those I love, myself, my daughter, husband, siblings, family, gives me the strength to carry on, to live as best I can for that moment, and to stay busy, getting stronger.